


Little Crowling

by Selenite_Flowers



Category: Nevermoor Series - Jessica Townsend
Genre: Aliases, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corvus Crow’s A+ Parenting, Dark!Morrigan, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Morrigan’s not evil she’s just misguided, Which is why it’s rated ‘t’, Wundersmith Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25393663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenite_Flowers/pseuds/Selenite_Flowers
Summary: Morrigan’s conversation with Mr Jones lasts five minutes longer. She signs his contract before Jupiter’s slides under the door. The Hunt arrive a couple minutes early. Jupiter is a couple minutes late.She is asked ‘don’t you want to live?’ by the wrong person.Morrigan meets Ezra Squall. He has a lot to teach his young apprentice. She has a job to do. Infiltrate the Wundrous Society.
Relationships: Morrigan Crow & Ezra Squall, Morrigan Crow & Henry Mildmay
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. A Conversation Extended

It all sounded so wonderful, being respected, loved, feared. All the people who had ever made her feel small and afraid would stand in awe or cower in terror. She wanted so deeply to be loved, instead of being hated. But the small voice in her head insisted it was too good to be true. It was a dream too far out of her reach. No matter how beautiful a dream. She was cursed. She was nothing but a Cursed Child.

Morrigan Crow took in a deep breath and met Mr Jones’ dark eyes. “I’d love to be Mr Squall’s apprentice. But it isn’t possible.”

Mr Jones tilted his head, and his lips did an odd little quirking movement. “Oh?”

“You see..” It shouldn’t be this hard. She’d known it her whole life. “I’m on the Cursed Children’s register, I’m going to die on Eventide. I doubt Mr Squall would want an apprentice for only a year.”

“Miss Crow.” Mr Jones adjusted his glasses. His long fingers fluttered a little along the wire. “You seem to be under the impression the Mr Squall and I were unaware of this.”

“What?” Morrigan blinked, once, twice, three times in confusion.

Mr Jones gave her a mild-mannered smile. “Mr Squall knew you were a Cursed Child before bidding on you.”

“Then surely he knows I’d just be a waste of his time,” Morrigan protested, stumped. “If I’m going to... die in a year.”

“I think you will find, Miss Crow, that a man as powerful as Ezra Squall doesn’t waste his time. If he wishes for you to be his apprentice, then it is because he can make _sure_ that his efforts are not wasted.”

Morrigan furrowed her brow. It felt like a lot of what Mr Jones was actually saying was flying over her head. As if he was speaking mostly in implications, which(as she had been decently isolated for her almost-eleven years) she was awful at picking up on.

Mr Jones sighed, and ran a spidery hand through his feathered hair. He shot her a small look of understanding. “Simply put, he is more powerful than your curse.”

“More powerful than...” Morrigan shook her head, that didn’t make sense.

“Do you understand Miss Crow?” Mr Jones gave her a smile, his eyes shining. “Ezra Squall can keep you alive.”

Morrigan’s heart stopped. He could... keep her alive. Something like hope rushed through her. “H-he can?”

“He can,” Mr Jones affirmed. He leaned back now, and peered at her through his glasses. “Surely you haven’t so readily accepted your demise. Don’t you want to live?”

Morrigan wasn’t entirely sure what demise meant, but from context she could guess its meaning. She bit her lip, in her wildest daydreams she imagined living past twelve. She’d tried to push that thought away, tried not to fear that she would go the the Worst Place. Tried to accept death as a reality. But deep down... she’d always hoped.

“Of course I want to live,” she whispered. Her eyes burned as she stared at the carpet, unable to meet Mr Jones’s.

“Good.” He nodded. “It wouldn’t do for you to be that passive.”

Morrigan blinked the tears out of her eyes and hoped they hadn’t gone red as she looked up. “Um, so what do I need to do to become Mr Squall’s apprentice? My family never told me about how Bid Day works, sorry.”

Mr Jones’ jaw flexed oddly at that, and his lips pursed. Then his face lost the odd expression that she couldn’t quite puzzle out and gained a look of faint amusement. “It’s quite alright, Miss Crow. You only need to do one thing.” He placed a piece of parchment on the table. “Sign this.”

Morrigan picked the paper up, it was a contract, and after reading the first line she saw that it was conditions she would need to agree to to be taken under Mr Squall’s wing. The first was Mr Squall’s exclusivity in patronage for the extent of her apprenticeship. The second was that she mustn’t tell anyone of her apprenticeship(purely to avoid Mr Squall being pestered by parents attempting to bribe him into another patronage, of which he was utterly not interested). Morrigan thought this all was rather reasonable and looked back at Mr Jones, who seemed pleased she had begun to read the contract.

“I hope you find everything in the contract acceptable, Miss Crow, though I do advise you go home and think on it before signing. Mr Squall is expecting it be signed within the week, but it’s important you sign because you agree to the conditions.”

Morrigan nodded, that was sensible. Then a thought occurred to her. “How am I supposed to get the signed contract to Mr Squall? Squall Industries is too far away to get any mail from Crow Manor in a week.”

“Mr Squall will know as soon as you sign, Miss Crow.”

She blinked. “Um, I’m not trying to be rude Mr Jones, but how?”

“Wundrous Contracts can duplicate themselves as soon as you sign them,” Mr Jones told her. He gestured to the document. “This is a Wundrous Contract.”

Morrigan furrowed her brows, filing this information away. “Oh, okay.”

“Miss Crow,” said Mr Jones. “In taking on this apprenticeship your secrecy doesn’t only extend to strangers.”

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“It is imperative,”— the man, seeing her confused expression rephrased.—“It is incredibly important, that nobody knows about your apprenticeship.” He paused. “Not even your family.”

“But then how will I— they won’t know what I’m doing for a _year._ ” Morrigan wrung her hands, anxious at the idea.

“Let Mr Squall explain it to you before you start worrying,” Mr Jones put a hand on her shoulder. “I doubt you’ll miss them very much anyway, Miss Crow.”

She looked down at her lap and pursed her lips. Mr Jones’ hand lifted off of her shoulder as she picked up the contract again. She’d miss grandmother, but Morrigan didn’t know if she’d miss Ivy or her father any time within a hundred years.

Morrigan was so busy thinking about the answer that she hadn’t even considered the wording of the question.

“Think on it, Miss Crow,” said Mr Jones’ soft voice. “Us at Squall Industries await your answer.”

She looked up, and the man was gone.

The contract was still on the table though... she reached out. The paper was rough on the pads of her fingers. She picked it up... it was still there. Mr Jones had been there a moment ago.

How had he disappeared?

‘Simply put, he is more powerful than your curse,’ Morrigan blinked as she looked over the inked lines of the contract. The words remained unchanged, she hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing. ...Maybe she could ask Mr Squall about why Mr Jones had left in such a hurry.

Footsteps sounded by the door, Morrigan recognised the gruff tone of her father’s voice growing closer. She looked down at the contract and folded it up. She slipped it in her pocket a second before the door hinges creaked open.

Corvus Crow’s expression was dark as he walked into the room, the Mayor simpering behind him. The Mayor mopped his brow and kept uttering desperate apologies.

“We’re leaving, Morrigan.”

Morrigan looked up at her father, “Why, what happened?”

“My sincerest apologies, Miss Crow,” said the Mayor, avoiding eye contact. “The bids you received were hoaxes. The organisations the bidders represented were... entirely made up. No such thing as what’s-its-name dance academy or whatever. Ridiculous.”

“But I—”

“This has been an embarrassing waste of time,” her father cut in coldly. “We are leaving. Immediately.”

“I just—” Morrigan stopped herself. Mr Jones had said her internship with Mr Squall was meant to be entirely confidential. Even from her family. Maybe she could ask Mr Squall about how it was meant to be a reality when she signed.

_If_ , she had to remind herself. She still needed to look over the contract fully.

She looked down and nodded. “Sorry, father.”

“The media will have a field day, and this appearance was because my approval needed a boost anyway. Bet this is that curse at work... whole day ruined... be stuck doing damage control for a month at least...” Morrigan tuned out her father’s muttering and wordlessly followed him to their carriage. Her eyes trailed the cracked pavement as she trudged after him.

She tried not to pay attention to the snickers of the reassured enviers. As a Cursed Child she’d gotten used to dealing with the amount of schadenfreude pointed her way. It still stung.

She reminded herself that it wasn’t totally a hoax. Her hand slipped into her pocket, the rough paper made her feel grounded. Somebody thought she was important enough to be worthy of protection.

Morrigan held in a smile as she climbed into the carriage. She gazed out her window as the sun lowered in the early afternoon sky. Her eyes skirted the Skyfaced Clock. For the first time she was unfazed by it. She couldn’t help the small smile that slipped out.

But then the Skyfaced Clock’s colour began to change.


	2. ‘Family’

Morrigan’s world came crashing down around her ears. People scrambled to prepare Eventide preparations. Experts hurried to say they had suspected for a while, and those who had said it was going to be an eleven year age loudly proclaimed their ‘I told you soes’. Whilst everyone was running around in a hurry to get things ready for the parties and celebrations, the general consensus among people was a little fuss from chronologists, and a shrug from everyone else. So, it would be an eleven year age instead of twelve, it didn’t change much.

But Morrigan was furious. She was promised another year of life, she’d had an entire year left. Now she had two days, the first was almost over, and she had almost no time to herself, so she spent it being tugged around whilst others made arrangements. By the time she was finally allowed to fall into bed her eyes were too sore to read Mr Squall’s contract for her. She fell into a fitful sleep of tossing and turning and laying awake.

After once again falling asleep and dreaming of Eventide Morrigan woke up in the middle of the night. She heard a fluttering sound under her door.

Squinting through the dark, Morrigan saw a small white slip of paper at the entrance to her room. She tossed back her covers and scurried to the door, picking up the little slip, it was an envelope. She cracked open her door an inch and peered into the hallway. No one was there... hm.

She closed her door and began to read in the dim firelit room:

_Jupiter North of the Wundrous Society wishes to present his bid for Miss Morrigan Crow. Again._

Morrigan frowned. Eventide was tomorrow. The only person in the world more powerful than the curse was Ezra Squall, and she hadn’t even decided if she was going to be his apprentice.

She turned to the fire, still not sure if it was a prank. But even if it wasn’t... this Mr North hadn’t shown up for the interviews. With shaking hands she cast the unopened letter into the crackling flames.

Too late, she thought as she watched the edges curl and blacken.

She spent most of the second day getting yelled at for fidgeting too much by the person painting her portrait so it could be ready for her funeral.

Ivy was running around like a chicken with her head cut off to prepare all the arrangements. Morrigan had scowled when the woman decided on pink for the lining of her coffin(the painter also yelled at her for that). So she did her best to still and wait.

Once everything Morrigan was needed for was completed she ran off to the drawing room that Ivy despised. Right now her room would be less private than she’d like and she didn’t want anyone walking in on her reading Mr Squall’s contract.

She sat reading through the dense legalese long enough for her eyes to begin hurting but she pushed onward. Everything was agreeable as far as she could tell, and something in the back of her mind told her that these sentences were simplified so could make an informed agreement to the decision. How considerate of Mr Squall.

Mr Squall would house and provide for her every want and need for as long as she was his apprentice. She would not be indebted to him, and once her apprenticeship was over she was free to do whatever she pleased but encouraged to continue working for Squall industries.

Morrigan looked over the healthcare section again, trying to find some wrinkle. It was all too good to be true. It was still true. She could terminate the contract if she wished at a later date, as she was still a minor and there was no signage from a guardian required. Morrigan bit her lip, this was a big decision... but what other choice did she have? She had seven hours until her curse, and life, came to an untimely end, and Mr Squall had given her an offer that would save her life.

There was really no choice in the end. The alternative to death was comfortable, and would provide for her, as well as setting up her future as one of the most influential people in the entire republic. All she had to do was sign.

She reached for her pen before realising that she’d left it in her room. Crap. She’d have to move all the way from the second sitting room to her bedroom without being noticed by a household that were very aware of her, as it was Eventide. She’d just have to take the risk and go slowly. Morrigan folded up her contract and went looking for her fountain pen.

She knew all the least populated hallways in Crow Manor, and avoiding the creaky floorboards was easy. She was as practiced at being unseen as any thief. Morrigan was quiet as a mouse as she sneaked to her bedroom, and she was sure she hadn’t been seen by even a single servant. She slipped through the creaky door without it making a sound.

Now that she was in her room it hit her that she was about to change her life forever. She walked to her desk and flipped the contract to the part where she was supposed to sign. She picked up her fountain pen and just before the tip of it touched paper she heard an impatient knock at her door. Morrigan tensed as she heard Ivy’s voice.

“Morrigan,” her stepmother snapped. “It’s dinner time, come down to the hall.”

“Coming!” Morrigan replied hurriedly, she shoved the pen’s lid on and placed the contract and pen into her pockets. She’d sign it after dinner.

She needed two steps to match one of Ivy’s, and her stepmother refused to slow her pace for a second so Morrigan ended up trailing behind her as they made their way down to the dining room.

It was her favourite dinner; lamb chops, parsnips, and minted peas. Morrigan was surprised that her father allowed the parsnips, considering he despised them so deeply. He grimaced as they were being spooned onto the plate but otherwise stayed quiet.

They sat eating in silence until Corvus made a half hearted attempt at saying something. He only ended up complementing the lamb.

Morrigan ought to have been resigned to this sort of treatment, after her father had referred to her education as ‘less valuable than a hunting dog’ but for the moment she felt nothing but annoyance. Why was this the best she was ever going to get? She deserved better than constantly being treated as if she were already dead.

“Well if Corvus isn’t going to say something,” Ivy began, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin. “I think I should say a few words... I didn’t know if I should say something, but I know Morrigan won’t mind. I’ve not been a member of this family for very long, but...” She trailed off.

“It’s fine,” Morrigan said hurriedly. “Go on.”

For the first time since she’d known the woman, Ivy looked at Morrigan and smiled.

Morrigan felt her heart flutter with hope. Maybe this was going to be an apology for the way she’d treated Morrigan, and an admission that it all came from a place of fear of losing her. Maybe Ivy was going to tell her that she’d grown to love her like a daughter, and how much she’d cry at the funeral.

“Corvus and I are having a baby.” Ivy said.

Morrigan’s world shattered like glass. She stared in bewilderment as her grandmother piped up about timing, and Ivy began to babble about the circle of life and how Corvus had always wanted a son.

Ivy’s voice broke through Morrigan’s stupor. “You don’t mind, do you Morrigan?”

“Mind?” She asked quietly. “Why should I mind you planning my replacement’s life while I’m about to be blotted from existence?”

“We weren’t going to say the ‘d’ word!” Grandmother hissed.

“I never said ‘die’, Grandmother,” said Morrigan, gritting her teeth. “And Ivy started it.”

“Morrigan,” said Corvus. “Stop picking a fight, let’s try and enjoy a family dinner.”

“Why is it never about me unless it’s my fault!?” She stood up, her chair making a squeaking sound against the polished floor, all the resentment and hurt she’d felt boiling over. “Not even the night before I’m supposed to die!”

“Don’t say that word!” Boomed Grandmother.

“Morrigan sit down,” Corvus ordered. “You’re being childish.”

“I _am_ a child!” Morrigan said, her eyes burning. She tried to keep her voice from shaking. “I’m _your_ child. Why has that never been enough? Why am I never enough for you?”

“You’re making a scene,” he said, and that was all Morrigan needed to turn and run. She pushed passed the concerned maid and ran to the second sitting room.

Why should she have expected anything different from her family? She wiped her tears again, but they were streaming down her face now.

Morrigan pulled out the contract and pen, and signed her name.

The room shook, and the lights flickered. Morrigan looked up at the sound of deafening drumbeats. No... it was thundering hoofbeats.

She saw the shroud of smoke and blood red eyes seconds before being enveloped in the drowning black.

Morrigan Crow tumbled through the darkness for what seemed like an eternity.


	3. Mr Squall

Morrigan gasped as she fell out of the smoke. She needed to fill her lungs with fresh air. The room span around her, she knelt staring at the carpeted floor, waiting for it to still. An amused chuckle met her ears.

“The Hunt tend to do that if you aren’t riding with them. The dizziness isn’t as bad on horseback.” She knew that voice. Morrigan looked up to find Mr Jones standing in front of her, sans the glasses.

“M-Mr Jones?” The room had finally stopped swaying.

“Afraid not,” he told her, with a little smile. “Ezra Squall.”

_What._

“Forgive the deception Miss Crow,” he said, outstretching a hand to help her stand up. “Mr Jones is the public persona I use, I felt it more useful to introduce myself that way, so you wouldn’t be intimidated by my presence.”

_Well NOW she was!!_

Morrigan accepted his offered hand and stood up, dusting herself off. “Were those, um, shadow things? Were they yours?”

Mr Squall nodded nonchalantly. “Some of my best work.” He flicked a wrist and the shadows dissipated.

Morrigan felt incredibly dull as she parroted back “Work?”

“Oh,” he said looking down at her. “Right. You have no idea what I’m talking about.”

Her cheeks coloured with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologise, Miss Crow,” Mr Squall assured her. “You’re here to learn, after all. But first let me do away with that silly little curse.”

Light surrounded Morrigan, it was so bright she had to screw her eyes shut. When it dimmed she blinked the spots from her vision.

“There we go, Eventide-proof.” He smiled at her, before narrowing his eyes. “Miss Crow, have you been crying?”

She shook her head weakly. “I-I haven’t.”

His expression shifted to something between bemusement and pity. Mr Squall reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief to wipe the rest of her tears from her face. “If you are to be my student, Miss Crow, you must learn to deceive more skilfully.”

Morrigan had never been told to get better at lying so she was a little confused. She gripped the little piece of fabric in her hands, and swiped at the tears, cursing her traitor eyes. “I’ll... try?”

He chuckled. “You’re probably very curious right now, so let’s sit, and you can ask me whatever you want. Then I’ll tell you the rest. Sound fair?”

“Yes.” She sat on the plush sofa he gestured to. Mr Squall sat opposite her.

“Ask away, Miss Crow,” he said.

“Um...” Morrigan figured she’d get the big question out of the way. “Why me?”

His lips quirked, and he leaned forward as if to tell her a marvellous secret. “Because you are just like me, Miss Morrigan Crow. You’re special.”

Morrigan had never once in her life been called special so she was a little taken aback. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

“You and I share a gift, you see, we’re the only people in the whole of the Unnamed Realm who have it,” he paused, his eyes gaining that distant look he’d had when talking to her on Bid Day. “We are the only two people who can control wunder. I chose you because you are a Wundersmith, just like me.”

She felt her breath catch as he smiled at her. “I am?”

“You are.”

“...I’m sorry sir, but could you explain to me what exactly that means?” Morrigan shrank in on herself, hoping he wouldn’t dislike her for being dense.

“You are someone who has the ability to master nine Wundrous Arts, to commune with wunder, and change, destroy, and create anything you can think of. Miss Crow to put it simply, with the correct instruction, you have the ability change this world in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.” Mr Squall said.

Morrigan blinked, disbelieving. It sounded almost like being a god...

“Quite,” Mr Squall’s eyes curved in the slightest smile, and Morrigan turned red with embarrassment.

“Oh gosh, I said that out loud,” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry... this is a lot? I just had my family tell me how much I didn’t matter to them and now I’m being told I have magical abilities— I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.” She winced at her oversharing. “Tonight’s been rough.”

“Right,” Mr Squall said, she could only assume he had stilled because of discomfort. “Did you have other questions, Miss Crow?”

“Um,” Morrigan looked at her hands. “Are you sure I’m a Wunder— what is it?”

“Wundersmith,” he supplied helpfully. “I am sure.”

“How can you tell?” She asked, it would be just her luck for him to be wrong.

“Wundersmiths can see wunder, it’s everywhere once you learn to look for it.” His tone had taken on that of a tutor. “Young Wundersmiths draw wunder to them passively, it’s almost like a cloud of light. It’s crowding around you, waiting for you to learn how to make it do things.”

Morrigan felt oddly as if this was information she had known for a while. Something she needed to be reminded on, but that was nonsense. “How do I do that?” She breathed.

Something gleamed in Mr Squall’s black eyes. “You call it, once you learn to do that, you’ll be able to see it. It reveals itself to Wundersmiths once it has been called. Then you use it for one of the Arts; that’s how you channel the power. If you channel it incorrectly wunder will take the lead, which will usually result in you getting injured. So be careful. Wunder isn’t a toy.”

“Can you show me?” Morrigan asked, eager in a way she couldn’t quite understand. As much as it was unbelievable, something in her gut felt right when thinking about it.

“I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t asked,” he told her. “A student uninterested in learning is not what I’m looking for as an heir.”

Morrigan tried not to look too pleased at the approval.

“The Wundrous Art of Nocturne is how to summon wunder. Each Wundersmith picks one unique song, it’s important wunder doesn’t get confused as to who is summoning it. Once it’s summoned any Wundersmith can see it if they’re looking. I’ll demonstrate.” Mr Squall faced his palm upward, and began to sing in a clear, surprisingly good voice.

“Little crowling, little crowling, with button black eyes..” Morrigan watched his palm intently. “Swoops down into the meadow where the rabbits all hide.” She was sure there was something there. “Little rabbit, little rabbit, stay by mother’s side...” something just graced the edge of her senses, she squinted. Maybe if she relaxed her eyes. “Or the crowling, little crowling, will peck out your eyes.”

“I see it.” Morrigan watched, in awe as little golden specks of light hurried to his awaiting hand. “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Mr Squall agreed. His black eyes gleamed like polished buttons. “There are nine arts. But before you master any of them, you must learn to summon wunder.”

She nodded, entranced with the light. Her eyes flicked up to his face. “What if I’m not good?”

“At summoning?”

“At singing.”

“Well, first of all musical capability isn’t fixed, it depends largely on training and technique, and second, you can’t be worse than Owain Binks. People came running whenever he summoned wunder because they thought he was being murdered,” At her look of nervousness he sighed. “Wunder’s not going to be offended, just pick a nursery rhyme or something and try to call it.”

“I don’t know any.”

“Nonsense.” Mr Squall clicked his tongue. “Any song will do, Miss Crow. Have you never heard a lullaby?”

Morrigan’s childhood had not been one of lullabies and nursery rhymes. Her throat felt dry. There was not one comforting melody she’d ever been sung.

But maybe she didn’t need comforting, she thought as she remembered something. She’d hated the song, it had been so scary when she was forced to sing it. Awful as the old memories were... at least she knew the song. Morrigan took a shaky breath.

“Morningtide’s child is merry and mild,” Morrigan winced as her voice cracked. She wasn’t a very good singer. “Eventide’s child is wicked and wild.”

“Keep going,” Mr Squall said quietly. Morrigan couldn’t quite read his expression. There was a crease between his brows.

“Morningtide’s child arrives with the dawn... Eventide’s child brings gale and storm,” Her voice wobbled on a couple of notes. She felt foolish, singing(if she could even call it that) in front of someone who had just shown his mettle as a singer.

Almost as if he sensed her embarrassment Mr Squall piped up, “Where are you going, oh son of the morning?”

“Far up above where the winds are warming,” Morrigan tried not to fidget as the first flecks of light clouded in her hands.

“Where are you going, oh daughter of night?” His voice really was very lovely.

“Deep down below where the pale things bite...” Morrigan’s hands were nearly engulfed with with the bits of wunder gathering. Alarm rose in her throat as the little lights kept coming, faster and faster. “What’s it doing? Why isn’t it stopping?”

“It’s gathering, it’s been waiting a long time for you to call. Don’t panic, Miss Crow.”

“What do I do?” Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears as her vision began to be obscured for all the light.

“Make it do something. Just use the wunder you’ve gathered.”

“I don’t know how!”

“You do,” he told her, tilting his head to the side. “You are a Wundersmith, it’s in your very being. Stop panicking, Miss Crow.”

“I can’t help it!” She yelped as more gathered, her eyes forced themselves shut. It was almost too bright to think.

“If you are not in control of it, it is in control of you. Now is not the time to be a mouse Miss Crow.” His voice was firm, but he didn’t sound annoyed.

Morrigan took a breath, then another. What was the fiercest thing she could think of? Surely there was a way she could turn this light into something. Light. Heat.

_Dragon_.

She opened her eyes and breathed out, _burn_. A column of fire filled her vision. The room got dark, and Morrigan blinked as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the normal light. Her arms felt weak.

“Inferno,” Mr Squall said, sounding curious. “That’s rarely a Smith’s first manifestation... ah, the carpet’s on fire.”

“I’m so sorry!” Morrigan apologise as she rushed up to help, guilt blooming in her stomach. He pulled water from air to put out the little flames that were indeed eating the rug.

“No, no,” he said, dark eyes sliding to meet hers. “That’s exactly what I wanted you to do, Miss Crow.”

“...Set the carpet on fire?”

He chuckled. “You summoned wunder and used it in an Art. Obviously you haven’t learned control yet, but that’s nothing I hadn’t expected.”

“Oh.” Morrigan bit her lip. “So I’m not in trouble?”

She didn’t understand the look on his face. Disbelief, maybe? “Why would you be in trouble? You’re a powerful being with no training. Of course you’re going to break a few things.”

She shrank inward as the carpet rebuilt itself, training her eyes on the ground.

“You’re a very apologetic child,” He observed.

“I was a cursed child,” she muttered before she could stop herself. Her head shot up, “I didn’t mean to be rude, sorry.”

Why did his face have to be so darn unreadable!? Morrigan watched his features carefully.

“Why don’t you go to your room, Miss Crow?” He said finally. “I’m sure you’re very tired after today. We’ll work more when you’re rested.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He whistled and a dog formed from the shadows. Mr Squall looked over her, squinting. “He’ll take you to your room. The clothes in there should fit you well enough.”

“Okay.” She nodded and followed the waiting shadow to the door. “Have a good night, Mr Squall.”

Morrigan had no idea why he looked so amused at that. “You too Miss Crow.”

She padded quietly down the hallways after the dog(Morrigan was fairly sure it was a beagle). Until she reached a polished black door with a silver handle. The dog sat in front of it. Morrigan reached for the handle and opened it to a large but plain room, with a desk, a closet and an adjacent door she assumed to be a bathroom. She thanked the dog as it disappeared into shadows once more and closed the door behind her.

On her double bed were soft pyjamas that were neatly folded. She tried them on, finding they fit perfectly. She folded her dress neatly over the chair in her room and crawled into the softest bedding she’d ever felt. Morrigan fell into a dreamless sleep before she could even think.


End file.
